


Always Fearless in Love

by angelichl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Closeted Harry, Cuddling & Snuggling, Famous Harry, Famous/Non Famous AU, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Hook-Up, Hotel Sex, Laughter During Sex, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Morning After, Naked Cuddling, Non-Famous Louis, Oh, One Night Stands, Pre-Relationship, Sexy Times, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, as in, brief mentions of forced closeting, chasing each other around the dressing room, clifford, he has a pride flag hanging in his dressing room :'), louis' dog clifford, why isn't that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 09:31:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13315356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelichl/pseuds/angelichl
Summary: Harry Styles is the international popstar who refuses to remove his lipstick just minutes before a live performance.Louis Tomlinson is the tragic intern stuck with the job of wiping it off.Chaos ensues.





	Always Fearless in Love

**Author's Note:**

> I have a million WIPs to work on and yet I choose to spend my day writing this instead (－‸ლ)
> 
> The title is from the poem "Most of the Time" by Caitlyn Siehl.
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

 

 

_ I forgive the world because it has you. _

 

 

 

 

 

“I can’t do this anymore! I am so- I am so _done_!”

 

The stylist dramatically drops the wipes she had been clutching with a vice-like grip in her hands, and the package falls to the ground with a small thud. In response to her unexpected, uncharacteristic outburst, the entire dressing room full of people falls silent, and waits with bated breath to see what she will do.

 

Even the popstar, who is currently balancing on the arm of the couch in an act of escape, stops moving. He remains frozen in the air, wobbling slightly like the klutz he is, before he’s windmilling his arms in an effort not to fall off the couch and on his ass. His lips are bright red like a cherry or even a firetruck, the lipstick carefully drawn on with skill that can only mean one thing—he has done this a lot, even practiced it, to the point where he could snatch a tube of lipstick out of an innocent bystander’s hands and apply it perfectly within seconds, all while his stylist and other handlers are screaming at him to stop.

 

People begin shuffling out of the room at the stylist’s rage, desperate to leave the awkward, stifled air of the dressing room. Louis makes to leave too, eager to sneak out and not return until the problem has been resolved, but the stylist must have other plans because she violently whirls around and grabs him by the back of his shirt, yanking him back.

 

“You!” She shrieks, loud enough that her voice echoes even with the black curtains covering the walls. At every venue they visit, Harry Styles requests black curtains for his dressing room because it supposedly calms him before his performances. Louis thinks he just likes to be dramatic.

 

However, now is not the time for Louis to be thinking about the drapery. In fact, he should really be more concerned with his very frustrated, very angry boss who is poking her finger in his face.

 

“I am so done with him. I can’t do this anymore. You have ten minutes to get that god-awful lipstick off of him before he goes on stage to perform.” And then she’s storming out of the room, shutting the door behind her so hard the walls shake, and Louis is left there alone in the room with an international popstar who has a performance in exactly ten minutes and refuses to take his lipstick off. God.

 

“Harry…” Louis warns, eyes wide as he stares at the man who is still balancing on the arm of the couch across the room, lip nearly blindingly red in the mood lighting from the candles.

 

“Louis…” The popstar retorts, clearly ready to bolt if Louis chases after him.

 

This is the thing about Harry: for a famous person, he is so kind. He knows everyone’s name and loves to prove that he does at any given moment. Like right now, for example, as he says Louis’ name and Louis has to take a shaky breath because this stupid famous person doesn’t only recognize him but even somehow remembers his name.

 

Louis is new here. They’ve never even spoken before and have barely been introduced. Louis is an intern for one of Harry’s stylists—the one who just stormed away in a fit of frustration—and he’s been on the job for only a week. Mainly he just gets everyone coffee and organizes paperwork, among other boring and mindless tasks to keep him occupied and out of trouble. Typically he doesn’t mind, but sometimes it’s kind of a pain to overhear conversations about Harry and his team’s public-relations strategies.

 

He finds it especially painful now, when he’s in the boy’s dressing room and there’s a rainbow flag hanging on the wall opposite the vanity, illuminated by the pomegranate-scented candles covering the table just below the flag. Behind the scenes Harry is so boisterous and loud about his sexuality, not giving anyone the satisfaction of silencing him or who he is.

 

Louis assumes this is why he wants to wear the bright red lipstick on stage: because for years he has been so stifled by the rules of his record label and the weight of all they expect him to be. Entering the music industry at such a young age had allowed them to completely create this entire persona that just wasn’t Harry. He was the womanizer and the man who objectified women, always asked questions regarding sex during interviews, pestered about his thoughts on certain models, even when he was as young as eighteen. The bad press never stopped and his team even encouraged it because that was what they needed to sell records.

 

Well, now Harry is almost twenty-four years old and he has been stifled and suppressed for years. Louis hadn’t known anything about him before this job, and seeing forced closeting happen right before his very eyes was shocking and horrifying all at once. The first day on the job went much like this, with the popstar running around the room and laughing wildly as his stylist chased him screaming. The fun had stopped abruptly as soon as a serious-looking man entered the room and Harry immediately stopped running to cover his lips with his hands, knowing he was about to get in trouble.

 

Louis didn’t know what trouble meant and what the punishments entailed, whether it was a verbal scolding or actual financial penalties. He hadn’t asked. Instead he just stood there beside his boss and watched the light drain from Harry’s eyes as he quietly wiped off the lipstick himself, not even meeting his own gaze in the mirror of the vanity

 

The next day, for an interview, the popstar’s lips were back to their natural pink. However, his nails, on the other hand, were not up to the standards of his team. They were painted a bright shade of purple that couldn’t be missed even from twenty meters away. That had caused quite the controversy, and no one had any nail polish remover or acetone on them so Harry was forced to scrape it off with his own nails. Louis noticed how he left a bit of the polish on around his cuticles, and later when he was scrolling through Instagram, he saw that some of Harry’s fans had noticed too. Knowing Harry, it was intentional.

 

Now, he’s balancing precariously on the edge of the sofa, feet bare and toes gripping onto the arm to keep him in place. His eccentric Gucci suit shimmers in the dim lighting as if it’s made of stars, but Louis doesn’t let it distract him. He has a job to do and it involves the big bright red smirk on Harry Styles’ face. Louis just knows this isn’t going to end well.

 

“Harry, please,” He tries, voice low and calm as he walks forward very slowly and carefully, hands hovering in front of him, walking on his tip-toes like he’s afraid to spook a frightened animal. Maybe some compassion will work on him, so he tacks on, “I am going to lose my job.”

 

The popstar is still standing motionless, perched on the arm of the couch like a bird ready for flight, when Louis is only two meters away. He breathes in a breath of relief, thinking Harry has finally given up and is going to go easy on the poor new intern who just wants to keep his job.

 

He reaches out to grab Harry gently by the arm but of course is proven wrong as the popstar bolts out of his grasp, catapulting off the arm of the couch and landing on his feet in the middle of the room. He turns around to give Louis one last red-lipped smirk, a wicked glint shining in his eyes, before he sprints away, screaming, “NEVER!”

 

It makes Louis simmer with annoyance and frustration. He scrambles after Harry, flinging himself out of the dressing room and down the long hallway of the venue, chasing wildly after the popstar.

 

Harry is still giggling like a god damn child playing a game of tag, so Louis lets out a war cry to scare him and picks up his pace, cursing his short legs as he struggles to catch up. Harry scuttles away, turning right at the end of the hallway after nearly slamming into the wall, his bare feet scraping against the slippery floor to gain purchase. Louis’ shoes give him a bit of an advantage so he chases after Harry, not giving up as they sprint through the maze of hallways.

 

Honestly, what even is his life? What in the living fuck is he doing? When he applied for this internship, he just thought it would be a fun thing to do over the summer to add onto his resume. Never did he anticipate chasing after a famous singer, trying to get him to wipe of his lipstick before his performance.

 

Oh god, his performance. As he’s running after Harry he chances a glance down at his phone which is in his hands and sees they have five minutes until Harry will be introduced and need to go on stage. The hallways are all empty because everyone is getting ready for the TV show to begin and Louis can’t even begin to imagine what will happen to him if he doesn’t get Harry there on time, with lipstick or without.

 

He recites a silent goodbye prayer to this internship which kind of sucks but kind of doesn’t at the same time. He isn’t ready to let go of it, but there isn’t much he can do at this point. With shocking, admirable persistence he continues to chase after the popstar, and when he sees they’ve finally hit a dead end he laughs and watches as Harry scrambles for a possible exit.

 

There isn’t one. He opens a door that could possibly lead to a stairwell, but when Louis runs up to him, shoes skidding on the shiny floor, he sees that Harry has opened the door to a storage closet and has thrown himself in it to hide. Louis launches forward and tackles him to the ground, landing the both of them on some empty buckets and knocking over a rack of mops in the meantime.

 

Finally Louis has him beneath him, lying out on the floor and groaning in defeat. Louis plants his bum on Harry’s tummy in case he has any intentions of escaping again, and holds his arms down to the cold floor with his own hands clasped tightly on his surprisingly thin wrists.

 

“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Louis whines, thinking that he has less than four minutes to get the popstar on stage. “What exactly is your plan?”

 

Harry just keeps his head rested on the tile floor, looking up at Louis on top of him with his red lips parted and labored breaths escaping due to fatigue from sprinting all over the venue in a failed attempt to escape Louis. He doesn’t respond.

 

“Before I let you go you have to promise to get rid of the lipstick and make yourself presentable before you go on stage. You only have a few minutes.”

 

By the time Louis notices that the wicked glint in his eyes has returned, it’s too late. Harry yanks his wrists out of Louis’ grip and very quickly grasps the back of Louis’ neck and tugs him down so forcefully their faces collide in a very messy, very one-sided kiss.

 

It does the job. Harry holds Louis in place and kisses all over his mouth, his cheeks, and his face in general, all while Louis is too stunned to do anything. He just… what.

 

When Harry finally pulls back, bright red is smeared all over his face, and Louis knows that he himself looks like much of the same. He just stares in absolutely stunned silence at the little brat below him who looks so pleasantly self-satisfied with the horrid mess he has made of everything.

 

“Oh my fucking god,” Louis says after another minute has surely ticked away. “What the absolute living fuck. There is no way I’m not losing my job.”

 

Harry sits up forcefully, causing Louis to tumble off his lap and fall to the side.

 

“You’re a million shades of awful,” Louis tells him, already lifting the hem of his own poor t-shirt to wipe aggressively at Harry’s lipstick-marred face. The red isn’t coming off at all so he licks his palm and rubs it all over Harry’s cheeks desperately. Harry just frowns in affront but allows him to do it. They don’t have any time left.

 

“You’re a million shades of red,” Harry tells him, poking at Louis’ cheek which is most definitely smeared with the very lipstick off of Louis’ lips. He can’t believe that just happened. He can’t believe Harry just did that.

 

“Oh no, your concealer is coming off too,” He cries when he sees that the makeup one of Harry’s handlers applied earlier is wiping off on his hand. Oh well, there’s nothing to do about it now. He keeps scrubbing at Harry’s face until he deems it just simply good enough. Harry is laughing at him like he thinks it’s funny.

 

“It’s really not funny,” Louis tells him, voice chastising, like when he has to reprimand his dog Clifford for barking at the mailman or chewing up one of his toys. Now that he thinks about it, this Harry Styles reminds him a lot of his black labradoodle. They’re both big curly clumsy noodles. “Now you’re gonna get in trouble and I’m gonna get fired.”

 

Harry’s expression turns a bit serious as he frowns slightly, standing up and helping Louis up too. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

 

“I don’t know how much say you’ll really have, kiddo.” He checks his phone, seeing it’s two minutes until the show is going live. The entire crew is probably freaking out right now. Louis sighs, shoving Harry away. “You have two minutes to fucking find your way back to the set, so you better haul ass. I’ve gotta go find you a pair of shoes.”

 

The both start running down the hallway again, splitting up at the end and going in opposite directions, Harry to the set and Louis back to the dressing room. On his way there he wipes frantically at his face but figures it’s no use. Eventually he just gives up, nearly ransacking the place for a pair of shoes, and finally finding the pair of rainbow loafers beneath the clothes Harry had been wearing before he had changed into his glittery suit.

 

He sprints to the set, running faster than he ever has before in his entire life. When he gets there he sees a mess of chaos as people scramble before they go live, and Harry sitting on one of the chairs behind the scenes looking a bit worried. Surprisingly he looks all put together except for his bare feet, toes wiggling in the air as he swings his legs back and forth nervously.

 

Louis wastes no time in rushing forward and jamming the loafers on his feet, swatting him once on the knee and saying, “You made me run all over creation, you asshole.”

 

Harry just laughs and presses himself forward, kissing Louis on the forehead with a bit of force. Louis thinks he has dust or something in his eye but then he realizes, _no, that motherfucker just winked at me. What the fuck._

 

There isn’t any time to dwell before Harry’s entrance is announced and he flutters away, walking with purpose through the curtain and presumably up to the stage in front of the studio audience. Louis doesn’t even watch through the monitors set up backstage, he just stares at the wall and thinks he probably looks insane with red lipstick smeared all over his face.

 

When the music starts he finally chances a look at one of the screens and sees the popstar with a guitar in his hands, smiling casually, looking all put-together and relaxed. Almost as if he wasn’t just lying on the floor of a storage closet with lipstick all over his face three minutes ago. Honestly. What the hell.

 

“Woah, what happened to you?”

 

Louis gives Harry’s stylist a sideways glance. “Nothing. I got him out there on time, see?”

 

“I suppose you did.”

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

As soon as the show is finished, Harry is walking swiftly backstage, heading right in Louis’ direction.

 

Louis whips around quickly to see if someone important is standing behind him, but he’s met with only the blank wall so he turns back around and sees the popstar smiling at him as he approaches, one hand held out like he wants Louis to take it.

 

“Do you wanna see something for a second?”

 

“Um, sure-“

 

He’s cut off by Harry tugging on his hand, pulling him behind some of the heavy curtains and into the dark shadows behind the stage. Back here all the noise from the chaos outside is muffled but he can still hear people celebrating at the finish of the show. Maybe he should be concerned about being in such a small, dark, secret place but he really isn’t. Not with the soft way Harry is holding his hand.

 

“Hey, can I kiss you?”

 

“What? Oh- Yeah.”

 

So Louis is standing in the dark behind the heavy stage curtains, and a gay but closeted international popstar is caressing his face very softly beneath the touch of his cold fingers, pressing their lips together gently.

 

Louis takes this tentativeness as his cue to take control of the kiss, so he does, sliding his hands beneath Harry’s suit jacket and placing his palms on the soft pudge of his hips just above the waistline of his trousers. He squeezes his hands teasingly, slotting his leg in between Harry’s thighs, and nibbles at his lip until he opens his mouth. When he does, Louis licks in, eliciting a happy little squeak from Harry who holds his face tighter and slots their bodies even closer together.

 

It’s wholly incomparable to what happened in the storage closet earlier, with Harry very obviously joking around with the way he attacked Louis’ face in big kisses with excessively puckered lips the color of a Crayola crayon. Now they’re kissing for real this time, and Louis can very clearly feel the way Harry opens up for him like a flower to the sun, and it’s a nice feeling, being able to coax this softness out of someone so guarded, in a way.

 

Harry relaxes quickly, falling pliant under Louis’ touch, and continues to reverently cup Louis’ face in his big hands, stroking his cheek with his thumb. The way he’s holding Louis, like he’s something special and somehow deserving  of the softest, most caring touches in the entire world, is enough to make him melt. So he does, leaning his weight forward and pressing Harry’s back against the wall. He untucks his shirt just to get his hands on the warm skin of his tummy, running his hands all over his sides and his belly and making him squirm.

 

“That tickles,” Harry breathes, exhaling heavily when they finally pull away to regain their breath.

 

“Oh, does it?” Louis asks, quirking a brow and now purposefully tickling Harry’s sides. He squirms away laughing shoving Louis’ hands back to his sides. Louis has to shush him by kissing him again, swallowing his laughter, because there are people just beyond the velvet curtains and someone is definitely going to notice them.

 

“Come back to my hotel room, _please_ ,” He gasps, when Louis detaches their lips again in favor of kissing down his neck, leaving little tiny bites and lapping over them with his tongue. Harry is very affected by his touch and whimpering quietly, and it’s so exciting because Louis has never been with someone so responsive and _excited_ , and Louis likes that because he’s excited too, and hookups are always more fun when you know you’re pleasing the other person.

 

“Yeah? You want that?”

 

“Yes, yes, please,” He chants, a little bit desperate and a little bit wrecked. Louis is glad because he feels much of the same. It’s definitely mutual.

 

“Okay, but only if I can bring my dog.”

 

“You have a dog?”

 

Louis stops kissing at Harry’s collarbone for a second so he can get the words out clearly. “Yes, and I’ve left him alone all day, and I promised I’d show him some love tonight. So either he’s coming with me or no one’s coming at all.” He thinks about it for a second, before, “That definitely sounded dirtier than I meant it.”

 

“Okay, I like dogs. Just, please- Come.”

 

“Of course.” He steps on his tippy toes to reach up and kiss Harry on the nose, giving one last squeeze to his hips before he slides his fingers through Harry’s hair and ruffles it teasingly. “I’ll leave my number somewhere in your dressing room. Text me the details. I’ll see you tonight. Now I have to go so my boss can go fire me.”

 

He gives one last kiss to Harry’s lips before detaching completely and running out of there before Harry has a chance to convince him to stay a while longer. He stealthily makes his way back to the dressing room, fixing his appearance on the way there so he doesn’t look like too much of an obvious mess. When he gets there he finds a napkin and writes down his number in his usual messy scrawl, not bothering with anything fancy.

 

Then, of course, he sees the tube of lipstick and gets a funny idea, so a few minutes later he’s setting the napkin down on the vanity for Harry to find, laughing at the gaudy print of his lips beside the number. He wipes the lipstick off with one of the makeup wipes from the package on the ground and then he leaves the empty dressing room in search of his boss, ready to go back to work.

 

All the while there’s this feeling unfurling in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in far too long, making him smile giddily to himself every so often.

 

Today has been unexpected, definitely, but it would be wrong to call it unpleasant.

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

Later that evening, on the way back to the hotel, he stops at the store and picks up a bottle of wine, among the rest of his grocery items on the list. By the time he checks his phone again he’s back in his room, drying off after the shower, and he sees a text from Harry.

 

_Hotel isn’t dog friendly :( think u can smuggle him in?_

_Ummmm idk he’s kind of a big dog_ Louis texts back, looking at Clifford who is just standing there watching him curiously, head tilted to the side like he does when he’s confused. Louis ruffles his fur and waits for a response.

 

_Go to the back entrance. I’ll have someone there to bring you guys to my room_

 

Attached is the address and a link to the hotel’s website just in case he gets lost or something.

 

Louis gets dressed casually, not too worried about dressing to impress because he’s pretty sure the clothes won’t last a few minutes anyways. Besides, he already knows Harry likes him, and he’s pretty sure Adidas joggers and a t-shirt aren’t going to change that.

 

He hauls Clifford into the rental car, thinking about their no-dog policy too, and laughing to himself. Harry’s hotel is only a few minutes away, and Louis finds it funny that he stays at a nicer hotel while the rest of the crew is at a middle-of-the-road one. Harry doesn’t seem like the type of person to care about these things, but Louis doesn’t really know. He’s only known him for a week really, and they have yet to have a full conversation like normal people that doesn’t involve lipstick or making out in the shadowy part of the studio behind the stage.

 

Cliff is curled up on the backseat by the time he pulls up the drive of the hotel so he feels bad for waking him, enough to even attempt to carry him. It doesn’t work but it’s the thought that counts, Louis supposes. They make it to the back entrance and someone is there to lead them up to Harry’s room, just like Harry said. Louis knocks on the door and it opens almost immediately, with someone tugging him inside by the front of his shirt. Before he knows it the door is closed and both him and Clifford are inside a very luxurious-looking hotel room.

 

“Sorry, people aren’t supposed to see me. Or your dog I guess,” Harry mutters, looking sheepish for tugging Louis inside the room so aggressively.

 

“It’s fine,” Louis laughs, watching as Cliff excitedly bounds forward and starts sniffing Harry, always eager to meet someone new. Harry holds out his hand for Cliff to smell before petting the fluffy fur on his head.

 

“You’re a cutie,” He coos in a voice reserved especially for animals, getting down on his knees so he’s at eye-level with the labradoodle. “What’s your name, baby?”

 

“Clifford,” Louis supplies, stepping further into the expansive hotel room and having a look around while his dog and the popstar meet each other. “Nice room. Or, rooms, I guess.”

 

“Yeah, it’s a little excessive I know. They insisted on me staying here though. Not that I’m complaining necessarily, but. Ooooh, you brought wine.”

 

Louis laughs at the way he gets sidetracked, agreeing, “I did.”

 

“Pour me a glass, please.”

 

“Mhm.” Louis finds a bottle opener and two wine glasses in the fully-stocked kitchen. He walks around exploring a bit and sipping his wine while Harry gives all his attention to Clifford, who is lying on his back enjoying Harry’s big hands rubbing his belly.

 

When Louis returns back to Harry they talk for a while about random things as they drink their wine, and Louis realizes that he would be happy even if they did nothing more than this. Harry’s company is just so… pleasant. They just seem to get each other, like they’re on the same wavelength or something. Louis has never felt so completely at ease with someone before, but he feels that with Harry.

 

Harry feels it too, and Louis knows because he says, “It feels like I’ve known you forever.”

 

And Louis is thinking _yeah, me too_ , so he says it out loud. And then Harry is kissing him again, clasping Louis’ face in his hands just like he did before, so soft and sweet and perfect, and Louis likes it a lot. They’re just standing in the middle of the entryway with Clifford lying happily at their feet, and it’s nice, but Louis thinks it would be a lot nicer on the king-sized bed, so he starts gently pushing Harry backwards, kissing him the entire time, until he gets him to the bedroom.

 

By the time he has Harry all spread out beneath him on the sheets, he notices the sound of someone panting and it isn’t him and it isn’t Harry, either, so he turns around and sees that Louis followed them into the room.

 

Louis rolls his eyes, gently telling Cliff to go away. Of course, he does the exact opposite, jumping up on the bed and licking Harry’s face, making him laugh hysterically.

 

Louis goes to pull him away and move him to the other room himself, but Harry protests, saying, “It’s okay, he can stay.”

 

“I’d rather not have my dog on the bed while we’re having sex.”

 

“But he just wants some love too, don’t you baby?” Harry coos, sitting up to hug Clifford.

 

This makes Louis sit back on his heels, looking at the image before him, all thoughtful. There’s Harry who is tall and gangly like a stringed bean lying all splayed out on the bed, his hair a mess from Louis running his hands through it as they kissed. His jumper is rucked up and a small piece of his pale tummy is exposed, and Louis would very much like to kiss it or at least rub it with his fingers.

 

Clifford is laid out on the bed similarly, stretched out so he’s nearly Harry’s size, looking big and clumsy and curly just like Harry. He’s now lying beside the boy very happily, looking so content.

 

Louis still cannot imagine having sex with Harry while his dog is in the room.

 

“Sorry bub, you gotta go. I’m making the executive decision.” He turns to Harry now who is pouting like a child. “He can cuddle with us after. I have to draw the line somewhere,” He reasons, and the situation is a bit ridiculous, so he’s laughing, and Harry is too, agreeing, and they manage to get the big clumsy oaf of a dog out of the room finally.

 

They kiss up against the wall on the way back to the bed, all messy with teeth and tongue and spit, but it’s lovely, and it makes Louis ache with want. So he drags Harry back to the bed and begins undressing him, starting with his jumper, and then his joggers, and when he gets to his pants Harry is breathing heavily and encouraging him with his hands on top of Louis’. Then he seems to realize that Louis is still fully clothed, but he’s a bit too fucked out to do anything except tug at his shirt in an action that means _get this off right now_.

 

Louis obliges, hastily shedding his clothes using only one hand, the other busy tickling Harry’s thighs. He’s squirming and squeaking so Louis thinks it’s worth it even if it is a bit more difficult to get out of his clothes.

 

They kiss for a while longer, but after a bit it becomes apparent that neither one is content with just the feeling of their mouths slotting together. Louis waits for Harry to make a move, since Louis is the one in the position of power above him. It doesn’t take long before Harry’s hands are finding his bum and pulling their hips crashing together, searching for any sort of friction to leave the tension in his body. He ruts on Louis’ thigh, desperate for any sort of sexual relief.

 

Louis obliges him, of course, gripping him in his fist and squeezing a little just for the way Harry throws his head back and moans lowly, his voice deliciously raspy.

 

“You’re lovely,” Louis tells him, kissing up and down his cute tummy just because he can. “And for the record I like when you wear lipstick. Although it might’ve cost me my internship, so.”

 

“I can probably get you a-“ He pauses to moan again, when Louis presses his thumb to his slit, making his chest heave as he gasps, “A better- job.”

 

Louis laughs, pressing his thumb down again and reveling in the way the man writhes beneath him, his muscles tightening with tension in the wake of pleasure. He thinks that maybe he wants to wind Harry up even tighter so when he finally lets go it’ll be that much better. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, baby.”

 

He’s gasping again when Louis pulls away, dropping his hand from his crotch completely. “Please, please, I need you in me,” He cries, fingers grasping for purchase and coming up empty, so he clutches the silk sheets tightly in his fists and squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching.

 

“Mmm, I like it when you beg,” Louis says, falling into his unspoken role, liking the way Harry reacts to it. On the drive here he had been thinking about Harry, and he had come to the conclusion that he must be a bottom. He was right.

 

Giving him a few more strokes with his palm, he slides his other hand to Harry’s bum and wastes no time in pressing his thumb to his hole teasingly, enjoying the small sounds of encouragement Harry keeps making. He’s surprised to find Harry wet with lube already, but Harry tells him he opened himself up before Louis got here, and if that isn’t the hottest thing Louis has ever heard in his entire life. He kisses him hard on the lips just for that, pouring as much affection as he can into the action.

 

Not that he doesn’t trust Harry to know he’s open enough, but just to be sure he slides a finger in to prep him a bit, and quickly adds another, and another, since the slide is easy and he isn’t met with too much resistance. It feels wonderful with his fingers inside him, buried in warm heat, with Harry reacting at every little movement. It’s a lot of power for one person to have, and Louis takes it in stride, doing his job to make Harry feel as good as possible for as long as possible. They barely even know each other but he can feel the enormous amount of trust between them, and it’s kind of really nice, and definitely something he has never felt before—especially not with a near stranger.

 

After a bit of finger fucking, they both get too impatient. Especially Harry, who whines the entire time Louis is searching for a condom. He finally finds a handful on the floor beside the bed, covered from sight by Harry’s jumper. They must’ve fallen off the nightstand while Harry and Louis were making out with enthusiasm.

 

Since Harry is acting so needy beneath him, still whining impatiently, Louis wastes no time before he asks one last time if he is ready and okay with what’s happening. Consent is key and all that. Harry nods desperately but Louis waits until he uses his words, gasping, “Yes, please, hurry the fuck up.”

 

He laughs at his impatience but lines himself up and pushes in anyways, admiring the way Harry stills completely beneath him. He goes slowly, taking his time before their hips are pressed snug together and he finally bottoms out. Harry lifts his legs up, wrapping them around Louis and digging his heels into Louis’ lower back to keep him there for a second.

 

“Wait, let me just-“ He shifts around a bit, getting more comfortable and sliding up so his head is resting more comfortably on the pillow. Louis waits easily, stroking the underside of Harry’s thighs and taking the moment to truly treasure the breathtaking sight before him.

 

“You’re stunning,” Louis breathes, really wanting to lean down and kiss him but not willing to cause any discomfort by moving his position. Harry’s dick is hard and leaking precome on his tummy, making such a sight with all of his eccentric tattoos. The contrast between ink and pale skin is gorgeous, and it leaves Louis breathless when he traces his finger along some of the tattoos in awe. _Honestly,_ he thinks, _who even is Harry fucking Styles?_

 

“So are you,” Harry says quietly, reaching up and softly brushing Louis’ sweaty fringe from his eyes. “So lovely. Like the sun. And the stars. And the whole universe.”

 

So Harry may be a bit delirious. That’s okay. Louis gets the okay from Harry to move again and he does, pulling back with Harry’s heels still digging into his skin, closing his eyes as he pushes back in to the warmth and the pleasure again, feeling shaky and blissful. They’re so close together, and his senses are completely heightened so he feels it when Harry shakes with pleasure beneath him, breathy little moans escaping every time Louis pushes in fully, sounding like _oh, oh, oh_.

 

Louis mouths at his neck, kissing along the lines of his tendons and feeling his pulse beneath his lips. Holding himself up on his hands becomes arduous after a bit of time so he collapses down to his forearms, and the movement brings them close enough together that Harry’s dick rubs against the lower part of Louis’ chest.

 

This seems to really do it for him, as he starts to moan a lot louder, and when Louis says a lot he means _a lot_ louder. The noises ring through the stillness of the room and turn Louis on even more, motivating him even more to hit Harry’s prostate with each thrust. He’s beginning to see stars twinkling in his vision, but he wants to get Harry there first, so he takes his time instead of pounding faster, and reaches a hand over to pull Harry’s from where it’s clutching the sheets, entangling their fingers instead.

 

The small gesture creates a bond between them in a strange way, making what they’re doing feel a million times more intimate. With every pulse of pleasure Harry grasps Louis’ hand tighter in encouragement, and Louis squeezes right back, desperate to never let go. He buries his face in Harry’s neck, where it is hot and sweaty but comfortable and protected, making him feel safe.

 

When he finally pulls back to observe their progress he sees theman shaking beneath him, stomach tightening, abs clenching. His dick is angry red on his stomach, and Louis wants to touch, to get him off, but his hands are otherwise occupied either holding himself up or holding Harry’s hand.

 

He looks back up to see his face screwed up in obvious pleasure, eyes shut tight, mouth open and a long, low moan escaping from the back of his throat like a song to sing. The sight makes Harry smile, so endeared and happy to please Harry.

 

“You’re gorgeous,” Louis tells him, desperate for him to know, kissing it into his skin, down his neck and his shoulders and his chest. “So beautiful. Like an angel. Stunning, baby, absolutely gorgeous.”

 

It’s exactly what he needs to get off, Louis finds. He doesn’t know if it’s the praise of the being called _baby_ that does it, but it doesn’t matter and is honestly some combination of both. Whatever the exact factor that pushes him over the edge, he comes intensely, crying out, body pulled together in absolute tension.

 

Afterwards, he relaxes, body falling completely pliant beneath Louis. His tummy is streaked with the evidence of his absolute pleasure, and he’s breathing heavily, urging Louis on, telling him to keep fucking him so he can get off too. Louis obliges, a bit concerned at Harry being too sensitive, but doesn’t give it too much thought because as soon as he picks up the pace to steadily pound into him hard and fast he is coming, his orgasm overcoming him and filling him with ecstasy.

 

By the time he pulls out to get rid of the condom they’re both sore and oversensitive, breathing heavily and covered in a thin layer of sweat that glistens in the dull lighting of the fancy hotel room.

 

Louis returns to the bed where Harry is curled up and shivering, and he pulls the duvet over the both of them, making sure Harry is covered, before pulling him into his arms and warming him up with his own body heat. They lay like that for a while, with Harry’s back pressed to Louis’ front, waiting for their breathing to turn back to normal.

 

After only a few minutes Harry turns around in his arms and asks hopefully, “Round two?”

 

“How are you not exhausted? Don’t you want a nap?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes, sitting up. The silk sheets fall down around him and Louis observes him from this view, which is quite a nice view. Well, the truth is every view of him is nice.

 

“No, _Louis_ , I don’t need a nap. I’m not eighty years old. Besides, if you’re really that tired I can ride you.”

 

That _does_ sound nice, like really nice. “Mm, I like the sound of that.”

 

“Good. Now lie on your back.”

 

Louis obliges, resting his head on his arms so he has a nice view of Harry who is currently rolling another condom onto his already hard dick. Recovery times seems to be nonexistent where Harry is concerned, not that Louis is complaining or anything.

 

Harry gets himself situated, a leg on either side of Louis’ hips, before using one hand to hold Louis in place and the other on Louis’ tummy to steady himself as he sinks down carefully, probably at least a bit sore from earlier. It isn’t stopping him though.

 

When he starts to move up and down, Louis holds onto his waist to help him, bouncing him in his lap. Harry takes Louis’ hands from his hips and instead clutches onto them, interlacing their fingers and holding them in the air between their bodies, using it as a way to stabilize himself. Louis wants to kiss him, but he can’t from this position, so he settles for just admiring Harry as he fucks himself down and keeps his eyes locked on Louis’, the gaze piercing and intense as they both moan in unison.

 

After a little while he can tell his thighs are getting a bit tired, so Louis thrusts his hips upward to meet Harry’s, and puts his hands back on his hips to guide him down. Harry leans back, hands latching onto Louis’ legs behind him for support. When he throws his head back and moans loudly Louis thinks he has never seen anything more beautiful.

 

Just as Louis feels his second orgasm coiling in the pit of his stomach, he hears the telltale sign of tags jingling and groans when Clifford enters the room and runs straight at the bed, jumping up and joining them happily, probably wondering what in the hell Harry and Louis are doing, and why they’re so loud.

 

He starts licking the sweat off of Louis’ tummy and it makes Harry laugh so hard he nearly falls off his dick. Louis is very unimpressed, trying to shove Clifford away, but the damn dog just isn’t having it. Harry is still giggling when he resumes bouncing up and down, cooing at Clifford now in a baby voice. Louis cannot, honest to god, believe this is happening. But somehow Harry comes like that, on Louis’ dick, laughing at the dog which interrupted their very intimate moment. Louis follows not far behind again, with come all over his stomach and chest and the damn dog so oblivious of everything.

 

Harry collapses forward, soft dick still inside him, to hug Louis. Clifford sees the pile of cuddles and decides he wants to join in, nuzzling up to Louis and curling his big body against his side. Louis just sighs and holds him close too, wondering how in the world any of this happened. Now he has too big clumsy noodles with him, and at least for the time being they’re both his baby. What can he say? Louis likes to take care of people.

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

They go at it again and again until the number of rounds becomes too high for their sex-addled brains to count. Louis is deciding he really, really likes Harry when they finally fall asleep for good.

 

He wakes up the next morning with Harry curled up in his arms and Clifford somehow snuggled beneath their two bodies. Both Harry and Clifford are still asleep, so Louis has to keep his laughter to himself when he takes in the sight of his dog and his hookup so close together in his arms. He reaches over to the nightstand to grab his phone, taking a picture of the three of them and hoping Harry doesn’t mind. He didn’t get any nakedness in the picture, Harry’s cute sleepy face with Clifford curled up and Louis holding the both of them. When Harry wakes up he’ll ask him if the picture is okay for Louis to have on his phone. If it isn’t he’ll just delete it and have to trust his memory to remember this moment he doesn’t want to forget anytime soon.

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

It’s almost noon by the time Harry finally wakes up, stretching and yawning as the sunlight streams in from the windows and illuminates him in lovely golden light.

 

Louis watches as he opens his eyes and notices Clifford between them, laughing quietly before seeing Louis watching him. He just smiles sleepily and cuddles closer, resting his cheek on Louis’ arm again and saying, very profoundly, “This is nice.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

“We should do this more often. And not just like… sex, but like, other stuff too.”

 

“Other stuff like what?”

 

“Like, dates and stuff. If you want.”

 

Louis can’t help the smile that spreads on his face, especially given the blush dusting Harry’s cheeks. He never really stood a chance. “Are you sure that’s allowed, popstar?”

 

“Well, I don’t think it really is, but.”

 

“You mean we get to sneak around and I get to have the cheesy forbidden romance I’ve always dreamed of?”

 

“That’s what you dream of?”

 

“Not exactly. But I’m willing to try if you are. And at the very least the sneaking around aspect of it will be fun.”

 

“And at the most it’ll be something that causes a rift to form between us so wide neither one of us is capable of fixing it, and we both leave with broken hearts because we just can’t deal with the stress of hiding anymore.”

 

“Orrrr, we stay together because we’re committed to each other, even though it sucks to hide our love, and we may have to make some sacrifices, but at the end of the day we end up happy and together and glad we put in an effort to be together because it ended up turning out great, you pessimist.”

 

“I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist. I’ve had three boyfriends during my career and they all left me for that exact reason, you know.”

 

“Well, dear Harold, I don’t know if they made you feel like how you make me feel, but I’m thinking this is special, and something I don’t want to lose. So I’m willing to try if you are.”

 

Harry’s lip quivers and he looks away like he’s going to cry. Louis won’t let that happen. He peppers his face with kisses until he cracks a smile again.

 

“So what do you say, are you willing to try it with me?”

 

Harry stares at him for a long while and Louis wonders how he even came into contact with someone so lovely, so charismatic, so beautiful. It makes him ache with want in a pleasant way, like that burning feeling in his chest, that sensation of his heart whispering _mine, mine, mine_ into the universe. Wanting.

 

And he thinks he can hear Harry’s heart calling back. _Yours, yours, yours_.

 

“Okay. Okay, yes, of course. Of course I’ll try with you. Of course.”

 

Harry kisses Louis deeply, and then he kisses the top of Clifford’s head too just for good measure. There’s excitement building in the pit of Louis’ stomach, and it feels like the beginning of something really good.

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

As he often is, Louis is right.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments are appreciated and will make my day <3
> 
> [Reblog the fic post on Tumblr.](http://angelichl.tumblr.com/post/169476433944)
> 
> Much love,  
> Adri


End file.
